


I Hate Mad Scientists (And Their Mutated Sickness Pollen)

by ihavealotofwords



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Clint Barton Hates Mad Scientists, Comfort, Fluff, Hawkmoth, How do tag?, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Moths Scare Clint, Mutated Sickness Pollen, Prompt Fill, Sickfic, Somewhat, or something, sick!Clint, sick!Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 02:33:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1493446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavealotofwords/pseuds/ihavealotofwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Clint was hit by mutated sickness pollen, transferred it to Phil through- ahem- oral touch, and had a generally bad day. All thanks to a mad scientist.</p>
<p>Clint Barton really hates mad scientists.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hate Mad Scientists (And Their Mutated Sickness Pollen)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt [filled](http://fanofallthingsadorkable.tumblr.com/post/49484794425/i-hate-mad-scientists-clint-groaned-rolling) over at [my tumblr](http://fanofallthingsadorkable.tumblr.com/) :
> 
> randomcomicviews asked:  
> Are you up for a ShieldHusbands fic prompt where both Clint and Coulson are sick? I would give you so many points if Clint could be afraid of moths for some reason and the nickname 'Hawkmoth' gets thrown around. Please? *sad eyes*
> 
> (You don't have to give me sad eyes for a fic. Prompts are always welcome in my ask box over at tumblr.)

“I hate mad scientists,” Clint groaned, rolling over and burying his face in the pillow to block the light that had just been turned on. Beside him, Phil wheezed what he took as an agreement.

“Whoa, that is so weird. It took me a while to get used to Agent in jeans, but this? Pajamas?” Tony’s cheerful voice pounded against Clint’s ears, making his head throb.

“If you don’t shut up, I swear I will shoot you in the ass with an arrow right before your next press conference,” Clint snapped, then immediately regretted it as his head spun so badly he could taste the bitterness of bile in the back of his throat.

“Easy, Hawkass,” Tony said happily, though he did lower his voice some. “Good news is, you’re not contagious!”

Bruce appeared in Clint’s range of vision, cool hand touching his forehead. “You’re still running fever,” he murmured. He stood back up. “Both of your blood tests came back ok. So this isn’t contagious, and we’re taking you off of quarantine.”

Phil made a raspy sound in the back of his throat. Clint winced at the sound, reaching over to grasp Phil’s bicep lightly.

“He lost his voice about an hour ago,” Clint told Bruce. “But we want to know if you figured out what this shit is.”

“It was in that yellow powder that the scientist, whatever his name is-”

“Dr. James,” Bruce murmured.

“Whatever,” Tony said, shooting Bruce a look. “Anyway, it was in that stuff he shot you with. You said some got in your mouth, right?”

Clint nodded.

“That’s how it got into your immune system,” Bruce finished.

He and Tony both glanced at Phil, brows raised. Phil gave them a blank, unimpressed look, but Clint could see embarrassment in his eyes, hidden unless a person knew where and how to look. After a long staring contest, Bruce cleared his throat.

“We have to ask, just to be safe,” Tony’s snort cut Bruce off. The brunette scientist sighed. “Ok, I’m asking to be safe, he just has a perverted curiosity… How did the powder get into your immune system?” He gave Phil an apologetic look as Tony grinned like a maniac. Phil shifted, placing his hand on Clint’s hip.

“He got it from my mouth,” Clint said. He paused. “Probably off of the rest of my body, too. I took a shower, but I’m guessing the virus or whatever was still there.”

Bruce nodded while Tony giggled like a teenager. “Most likely. I wanted to be sure it didn’t go airborne.” He stepped away from the bed and looked around the room, ignoring Tony completely. “Did you vacuum-pack your uniform like I asked?”

Clint nodded and sat up slowly. The room spun sickeningly, but he shrugged off Bruce’s hand when he tried to help. Clint stumbled to his feet, just barely managing to keep from falling. He crossed the room, stopping in front of the small single closet. After they had realized what was going on, Clint and Phil had been quarantined in one of Tony’s guest rooms to contain the virus if it was contagious, so the closet was empty except for Clint’s uniform, vacuum-packed tightly.

Clint grabbed the hanger, dragging the uniform out of the closet. He flinched when something fluttered by his face and stumbled back. “Shit!” he hissed, nearly tripping over his own feet in his hurry to get away. Bruce gripped his arm and steered him back to the bed, which Clint was grateful for as the next moment his head spun and his vision blacked a little. Bruce pried Clint’s hand off of the hanger and took the uniform from him.

By the time Clint’s head stopped spinning, Tony was standing near the window, watching the moth that had just nearly killed Clint. “Damn it, kill that stupid thing,” Clint growled. Phil ran a hand up his back soothingly, helping the tenseness in his neck lessen a little.

Tony grinned, following the moth as it flew away from the window and towards the light in the middle of the room. “But it’s kinda pretty,” he protested. He glanced at Clint. “Are you really scared of moths?”

“Those little fuckers can eat through clothes and carpet. Just imagine if a damn scientist decided to experiment on them?” Clint shivered. “We’d never stand a chance against supermoths.”

“Whatever you say,” Tony said with a grin, watching the moth flutter around the room.

Bruce reached up and snatched the moth out of the air. “Tony, stop bugging them. They need rest, and now we can study this virus a little more.”

Tony gaped at the fist that held the moth. Bruce shrugged. “I’ll let it out of the window in a minute.”

“Hot damn, you’re like a kung fu ninja or something.” He made his way out of the door. He glanced back in for a moment. “I’ll let you have your hippie nature moment with the moth. I’m headed to the lab. See you there.” He winked. “Bye Agent. See ya, Hawkmoth.” He chuckled and disappeared down the hall. Bruce rolled his eyes.

“I do have some actual good news,” he said, turning to look at Clint and Phil. “As best as we can tell, the symptoms of the virus should only last 24 more hours. The worse symptoms should start lessening in a few hours.” He tucked Clint’s uniform under his arm and headed for the door. “Call us if you need anything,” he said, flipping the light off and closing the door behind him softly.

Clint groaned, flopping back down. “I hate mad scientists,” he repeated, turning to look at Phil.

Phil gave him a faint smile. He held his arms open, and Clint immediately rolled closer to curl against Phil’s side. He yanked the blankets up over them before settling his head on Phil’s chest. They drifted off to sleep together.

Phil had to keep Clint from killing Tony two weeks later when the archer received a large shipment of giant moths from upstate. He then proceeded to help Clint hack the speakers in Tony’s lab to play nothing but opera while he worked.

But that’s another story.


End file.
